“Our little world is big enough for me. Perfect”. – From “Into the Woods”
I nuzzle her hair as she sleeps. I grasp her toasty toes while she slumbers. Between them both, the baby in my belly moves slowly and hiccups.
Their perfection is not lost on me.
The fact that I have healthy children is a gift beyond measure. Sometimes that knowledge alone brings me to my knees.
So much gratitude.
Well all know it: Life holds not promises or guarantees. There is no true insurance on life or on health. We breathe; sometimes noticing but mostly utterly unaware of the life-force coursing through us in some cosmic orchestration. Our breath like a wisp of a cloud, holding the promise of so much; rain, dewy fog, shadows and shade and filtered sunlight.
I am not always the Mama I wish to be or know I can be. But they are always exactly the children they need to be.
There are times when my girls drape across my chest to rest and the baby twirls and kicks and these movements are felt by the girls. Communication happening in-utero. Sibling contact made from one realm to the next. And those moments make me giddy. I never expected that; no one told me how fascinating it would be to hold your children on your lap and feel a yet-unmet one almost reaching out to touch them. They find it rather normal and uneventful and I love that even more. Life, growth, birth; all a part of their lives.
My sweet Indigo, she has grown up so quickly. In the blink of an eye she transformed before us from baby to spirited, independent girl of many magics. There is this gently burning flame inside her. It glows, mellow-like, until stirred. And without warning, the first churns and shoots up hot sparks into the sky and it’s BOLD and BIG. We are mostly still caught off guard by this side of sweet Indi. But coming to the age of three, she has found herself. She has harnessed her power and knows how to use it. All we can do is stand and witness and honor her, even when I just want to roll my eyes and sigh.
Still, that broad smile lights her entire face and her cheeks rise up to meet her sapphire eyes. She gives the juiciest kisses known to humankind and her entire body quakes when she hugs. A world of healing rests inside of her body.
She is witty and silly and sharp. She likes to read books to herself and make up songs. She color pictures and holds them up, saying “Mama, see? See what I draw?”. She begs for “just a teeny, teeny bit of chok-it” (chocolate). She is still quite attached to her binky and SuperFuzz and I am too pregnant to care. Well, more than that, I’m over the idea that we old farts somehow know what’s BEST for our kids (i.e. taking away a binky at a certain age). We may know what’s better in some cases but BEST? Who are we to decide?
She will be done with it when she’s ready. It brings her comfort like chocolate does for me. Ain’t no one telling me it’s best for me to give that up. They don’t want to know a chocolate-free Leigh.
She’s a big girl, that young one of mine. And soon, she’ll be a big sister. She gently touches the “baby in belly” and gives morning kisses right by my belly button. She coos and smiles at babies, often gently patting their heads. I am not quite prepared for the blissful expansion of my heart once again, and I mean that in a GOOD way. How can you predict such a rush of heart-wrenching, transformative love?
Indigo, may you always remember in your deep cellular memory, how I truly enjoy the simplicity of simply holding you. How, in those moments, it’s as if we were never severed from one body. Please remember the whispers of love songs into your ear and the way our fingers intertwine at night the few moments before you fall asleep. Close your eyes, breathe deeply, and remember that I have always, always cherished you and your constantly giving spirit. My love for you is entirely unflinching.
And these are the few things that I indeed know BEST.